Chapter 4

1986/87

Despite his best efforts, Will was unable to prevent his gaze from wandering to the corner of the school canteen where Buffy and her friends sat, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by his current female companion.

"Give it up already," Faith protested. "You ain’t got what it takes to get with the Midwich babes."

"Midwich Babes?" Spike asked.

"Yeah," Xander explained. "Like that old Sci-Fi film. Village of the Damned. All blonde, too good to be true. Stick with their own kind. No time for others. Otherwise known as Buffy Summers, Anya Jenkins and Harmony Kendall and their wonderful escorts Riley Finn and Percy West—."

"Yeah, yeah. He gets the drift." Faith interrupted. "Doesn’t matter. There is no way in hell that Will, here, is going to get it on with one of their bitches."

Deep down Will knew that Faith’s protestations were nothing more than the truth. Still, hearing her say it brought some spirit of rebellion alive inside him. "’N’ supposin’ I wanted to, which considerin’ the fact I haven’t actually met any of them yet, so I can’t really say whether I would …but just supposin’ I did, what makes you think I couldn’t get one?"

"Okay, where do you want me to start?

No offence, but whether you actually got the smarts to go with it or not, the image says geek.

Hey, I wouldn’t even go out with you unless you changed the wardrobe, ditched the glasses and did something with that hair." Faith took another sip of her soda before going on.

"You’re too short for either Harmony or Anya. The only one of the three that wouldn’t be taller than you in a pair of heels is Queen B, and in case you hadn’t noticed she’s the one with the Teutonic boy-toy on her arm.

Chances are you ain’t going to be dazzling them on the B ball court and you sure don’t dress like your daddy’s a member of the country club. That only leaves one other entry route and I think, much like big bro here, you probably don’t have the guts to take it."

"Oh yeah?" Will responded to the challenge.

"Yeah. The day you manage to pull off the Bad Boy gig’ll be the same day X here gets to have sex with a real live woman."

"Hey!" both males protested at once.

Faith’s assessment of the situation was to prove far too accurate for Will’s comfort, even though he was quick to switch to jeans and T-shirts for schoolwear. In fact, he never even spoke to Buffy that entire year. It didn’t stop him sending covert glances her way from time to time, especially when he started to accompany Faith to self-defence classes at the Y only to find Buffy and her younger sister also attending. It didn’t stop him writing song lyrics about her, at least that’s what he called them. Anybody else would probably have called them poems, considering he didn’t have any prospect of them actually being put to music.

As far as friends went, Will found that it was the pair he spoke to that first day that seemed to stick, and as time wore on he got to understand more about why the pair were the way they were and the bond between them. Eventually, it got to where the siblings practically lived at Will’s house most weekends, otherwise known as the first couple of days after their father’s pay day.

Xander tried to deflect his father’s anger with humour. Faith, despite her size, chose to stand up to him head on, hence the self-defence classes. More than once, she gave the drunk a taste of his own medicine, normally resulting in a worse beating in return, but she was too pig-headed to back down. Neither of the pair would countenance getting the authorities involved, refusing to leave their mother alone with the man. Will knew that Xander lived in dread of the day, as she grew older that his father’s abuse of his sister might prove more than simply physical.

Summer finally came and quickly went. Will’s uncle opened a new club in LA, sort of a sister club to the Bronze, but less mainstream. His mum got talked into playing the part of DJ and promoter at the club on Friday and Saturday nights. Will helped out wherever he could, setting up the equipment for Dru and the bands she booked, and helping clear up at the end of the night. It became the norm for he and his parents to drive to LA on a Friday evening after his dad finished work and stay overnight at a motel, driving back home in the small hours of Sunday morning. Sometimes the Harrises came with them, sometimes they "house-sat" for them while they were away and sometimes when he came home Will was pretty sure Faith had used his bed for more than just sleeping.

Will found himself for the first time with some real cash to spend and with all LA to spend it in. He made new acquaintances, if not friends amongst the Goth and punk kids who turned up at the club when his mum was DJ-ing. That growth spurt he’d been praying for finally happened and though he’d never be tall, he finally hit the marker for average height. It was a few weeks before they were due to return to school that Faith commemorated the changes the summer had wrought by renaming him Spike, slim, hard, tough and with a wit so sharp it was dangerous.

1987/88

The situation amused Faith enormously. She took great delight in watching the furtive glances back and forth across the confines of the Y gym. The best bit was that she reckoned Spike was totally oblivious to the yearnings of the young girl who was so enamoured of him, but then considering his attention was totally focussed in the direction of her elder sister, that wasn’t so surprising. Faith racked her brain to remember whether the kid was one year below her in junior high or two.

It was kinda hard to keep track of things like that these days. Since Spike and Xander had decamped to Sunnydale High, Faith had been blowing off most of her classes. Nevertheless, Faith would bet the kid was only in seventh grade. That made her a good three years younger than Spike’s fifteen going on sixteen. 

Back in the locker room Faith watched the younger Summers rush frantically to get changed back into her street clothes, knowing that Spike would be waiting for his friend by the soda machine. Smiling to herself, Faith took a bit longer putting on her make-up than she normally would.

"Buffy, I need some money for a soda."

"We’ll be going home in five minutes. Can’t you wait till then?"

"Actually, I was going to go to the library to work on my math assignment. So, can I have some money?"

Faith had to give the girl credit. She had his schedule pretty much down. Tuesday nights, class at the Y, followed by meeting Xander for a couple of hours at the library and then down to the Bronze to score some free food and see what bands his Uncle Oz had booked for the week.

"Does mum know you’re not coming straight back?"

"Buffy!" the girl half-sighed impatiently. "It’s all set up. If you hadn’t been so busy simpering to Riley on the phone you would know. Money. Soda. This week sometime."

"How are you getting there and back. You’re not walking the streets on your own."

"Who died and made you Hitler mom? Mom said if I rang, her or dad would pick me up."

"He’s not our dad."

"He’s the only dad I’ve ever had. And if Hank’s so great then where’s he been for the last ten years?"

"He writes…"

"To some of us." Dawn gave up on asking and instead plucked Buffy’s coin purse from the top of her bag. "I’ll be waiting for you at the soda machine when you’re finished."

Spike leant against the wall by the vending machine, one leg bent so that the sole of his Doc Marten rested against the wall, head tilted back to emit a plume of smoke into the air. He looked for all the world like James Dean born a couple of decades late.

A clatter by his feet brought him out of his Buffy-induced daydreams and he looked down to find a mass of books and a crouching girl at his feet.

"Sorry," the brunette stumbled over the words as he stooped to help her get her things back into order. "Strap broke," she explained pointing toward her faulty book-bag, not mentioning that she had noticed earlier that the strap had almost pulled free of the side of the bag and she had arranged its final failure to occur at just this moment.

"S’alright, pet. No harm done… ’cept to the bag. You goin’ to be okay for getting’ that lot home? Somebody comin’ to pick you and sis up?" Spike weighed up the now unwieldy bag.

Dawn blushed. "Em… Riley’s coming for Buffy, but I was going to the library. Mom or dad’s meant to pick me up later."

Spike hesitated for a couple of seconds before he made the offer. "Look, kid. If you wait till Faith shows up, we can walk you over there and I’ll give you a hand carrying that lot."

"Faith? Is that your girlfriend?"

Spike snorted. "In that she’s a girl and a friend? Yeah. I kinda prefer it when my best mate isn’t goin’ to try to kill me for screwin’ around with his little sister, ‘n’ then there’s the fact that she’s my second-best mate…"

"But she won’t mind if I come with?" the brunette asked.

"Nah, Bitlet. She’s cool. She even lets me out without a leash now and again… I’m Spike, by the way."

"I know, I mean …Dawn. I’m Dawn …Summers," she stuttered and blushed in a way that Spike found endearing, finally picking up on the vibe from the younger girl.

"Dawn Summers!" Buffy’s voice echoed down the corridor from the female changing room, closely followed by the blonde herself. She grabbed her sister by the shoulder and yanked her as far away from Spike as she could without leaving the building, which still wasn’t far enough to prevent him being able to hear her every word.

"What on earth were you thinking about, talking to that bleach-blond freak?"

"Pot, kettle, black," responded her little sister.

"Yeah, well, I don’t look like Billy Idol jnr. I mean he’s probably on drugs or …or he’s gay or something. The guy is wearing eye-liner, for Pete’s sake... and an earring."

"And that automatically results in an inclination toward the same sex. Maybe I better start locking my bedroom door in case you slip in at night and molest me.

I think he’s cool. Just because someone chooses to express their individuality doesn’t mean they’re some sort of aberrant. He was just helping me because my book-bag broke, and he’s walking me to the library and you can’t stop me. You’re only worried in case Riley sees you talking to a guy that doesn’t have a letterman’s jacket."

"Dawn. You are not going anywhere with that guy."

"You are not the boss of me, Buffy, and if you try to stop me going where I want, with who I want, I’ll just ring mom at work and tell her you’re playing the spoiled little princess and that you’ve been a totally rude bee-atch to someone you don’t even know, just because they dress different from you and then we’ll see who gets grounded."

Buffy threw a last parting shot before she stomped off in the direction of the parking lot. "Don’t come crying to me when he turns out to be an axe-murderer, then."

Dawn hung her head as she made her way back toward Spike. "I’m really sorry ‘bout that. She’s not that bad really. It’s just she can be… overprotective, y’ know?"

Spike used a hand to tilt Dawn’s chin up till she was looking at him and gave her a grin. "Can’t say that I do know that much about protective older sisters, seein’ as I happen to be an only brat, but I do know it’d be stupid to hold anything she might have said against you. You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for Bitlet.

An’ by the way, you can tell your sister, that in England at least, a bloke wearing an earring only means he’s gay if it’s in his right ear and apart from coffee and a very occasional beer I’m livin’ drug-free these days. As far as the rest goes, I’ve always reckoned an axe was a pretty inefficient way to go about killing anybody. Too much blood all over you. I’d probably go for a rifle or maybe inject air bubbles into the blood stream, something like that… What d’you reckon, Faith. If you were going to kill someone how would you do it?"

"That’s easy. Give my dad enough money that he can stay in a bar twenty-four, seven and let him drink himself to death," the brown-eyed girl replied as she hit the side of the vending machine at just the right spot for a can of root beer to drop out.

"Hey…" Dawn looked on in admiration. "Can you teach me how to do that?"

Just over two weeks later…

Buffy could not believe it. Riley was due to pick her up for a date and the creature from Generation X was sitting in the living room drinking hot chocolate and chatting to her mum and stepfather about pre-Raphaelite art. The two males were being so English it made her teeth ache, like we didn’t have enough butt-pains without importing them. The albino freak had spent longer talking to the parental units than he had tutoring Dawn on her math homework. And what was up with that? Where did someone who wasn’t even in the country for seventh grade get off on tutoring seventh grade math?

"I don’t want you hanging around my house any more!" Buffy almost spat the words out.

"Really? I can’t see as how it would make any difference to you—," came Spike’s cold reply.

"And what’s that meant to mean?" Buffy’s eyes sparkled like emeralds, her rage lending fire to their normally limpid depths.

"It means that, it’s a good job that I happen to like your little sister enough to make time to help her out when she rings me ‘cause she’s got a problem with her homework, because if she had to rely on you helping her she’d pretty soon realise that what with the fact the only thing you make time for is hanging out with the in-crowd and dating the captain of the basketball team, you’re never there when she needs you and you don’t remember what you did in class last week, never mind three years ago."

"What I choose to do with my time is no business of yours. A social retard like you wouldn’t understand what’s involved in being popular." Buffy eyed him head to toe with a look of disdain. "It’s certainly not a concept you would ever have first hand experience with. But, I suppose that’s why you have to chase girls my sister’s age."

"If there’s…" Spike stopped himself before he said anything about being the prey not the hunter. His and Buffy’s little spat had attracted quite a crowd now and he didn’t want to say anything that might hurt Bit’s feelings or embarrass her. "…any truth in that, which there damn well isn’t, it would only be because she obviously inherited all her personality traits off your mother, whereas you only got her looks and your temperament obviously comes from the cold bastard who couldn’t even stick around to see Bit’s second birthday."

"Ew! Is that some creepy way of coming onto me?"

"It’s a way of saying that your sister and your mother are wonderful people, neither of whom I’m interested in dating by the way, but you’re a vapid, shallow, attention-seeking bitch whose entire life is a sham perpetrated solely for the purpose of being elected queen at whatever formal happens to be next on the list."

Buffy’s fist flew out with lightning speed, impacting with Spike’s nose.

Spike’s stance stiffened, his eyes suddenly looking icily cold. He raised a hand to check and sure enough his finger came away red with blood. "I take it from your physical retaliation that your brain has overheated under the strain of trying to come up with witty repartee, but if you’re frustrated, pet, you really should take that up with your boyfriend, ‘cause I find the idea of getting in a tussle with you about as appealing as spending the night in a pit full of rattle snakes." It was Spike’s turn to let his gaze rake up and down Buffy’s body.

Buffy’s fist flew out for a second time, only for Spike to grasp it in mid-air and force her arm back to her side, stopping not far short of using enough force to cause bruising.

"Uh-huh, pet. You don’t get to do that twice. Three people I happen to like live in your house. The fact you sleep there when you’re not busy playing kissy-face with your overgrown status-symbol or waving pom-poms like some institutionalised prostitute who has reached the pinnacle of her academic achievement spelling words out with her arms, is not going to stop me visiting them whenever it happens to be mutually agreeable. Learn to live with it."

Spike turned around sharply and strode off leaving Buffy glaring daggers at his back.

It was only when he and Xander were well clear of the throng that had built up around the argument that Spike asked Xander, "how is it, when I don’t even like the bitch, that even fighting with her makes me randy as hell?"

Xander chuckled softly. "I kinda thought you were protesting too much..."

Chapter 5

May 1988

The soft tones of Phil Collins singing "Groovy Kind of Love" filled the air in Riley’s bedroom.

"So this is some sort of ultimatum. That’s what you’ve been building up to?" Buffy sounded hurt.

"No, Buffy." Riley’s face looked as if she had suggested he liked to spend his weekends torturing puppies. "It’s just… we’ll have been together two years next month. And… well I think we’ve a spark. I mean I know I want to and I need to know that even if it’s not now, you can foresee a point where you will want to too.

I mean… I know it’s supposed to be some huge thing for a girl. Thing is, Buffy, when I imagine my first time, I imagine it being with you. If you don’t feel the same way about me now… then, I think it’s time to face the fact that you probably never will…"

"Riley…" Buffy looked up into his puppy dog eyes. "Come the day, there’s no-one else I’d rather be with. Right now, I just don’t know when that’ll be."

"Buffy, I don’t mind waiting. I just want to know that you feel the same way I do, because otherwise I think it would be better for both of us to make a fresh start."

"Riley, you know I love you... Christmas… Give me till Christmas. Okay?" Buffy pulled down her top where Riley’s hands had pulled it from her waistband. "I think I should maybe go for now. I’ll call you tomorrow morning..."

Buffy picked up her jacket and purse from the floor and made her way homeward. It only occurred to her as she mounted the steps at her own front porch that she hadn’t kissed Riley goodbye.

September / October 1988

Spike drove the classic car into the school parking lot to the smooth accompaniment of the recently stripped and rebuilt engine and the less smooth strains of the Dead Kennedys and "California uber alles". The interior still needed some work to bring it back to its former glory, but a summer of working at the local meat-packing plant had paid for the car, the body work and the engine parts, not to mention the second-hand leather duster that draped his now muscular frame. The interior work would probably have to wait another year. For now, it was time to get back into the academic swing of things. He could have got something newer for the same money and a lot less effort. Even so, Spike preferred it to some newer more generic model.

Xander got out of the passenger side and Faith climbed out of the backseat. Spike went round to the trunk of the car and pulled out a carrier bag, catching Faith by the arm.

"Catch, pet. You left some of your unmentionables when you stopped over at the weekend."

Faith glanced into the bag and then did a double take before stuffing it into the bottom of her book-bag. "They couldn’t have waited?"

"Hey, for all I knew they were your favouritest pair ever, kitten." Spike replied in a highly ironic tone that had Xander looking to and fro between his best friend and his sister.

"Hardly," snorted Faith.

Spike raised an eyebrow and gave her his copyrighted smirk, and Xander finally spoke up. "I don’t know what’s going on here, but you guys are up to something."

"Us?" chorused the conspirators. "Never…"

Xander threw his hands in the air and walked off toward the school building in mock disgust, before turning round. "Are you guys coming or what?"

November 1988

Spike spotted the blonde, alone for once, in the mass of humanity traversing the school corridors at the end of the school day. When she drew level, he turned around and fell into step beside her.

"Summers, I need a word."

"Here’s one for you then, "Off". You can take your pick from the generally used prefixes as long as the overall expression means, "Go away.""

"Can’t do that, pet," he responded. "Not till you tell me Bitlet’s alright, at any rate. Neither of you showed up for class on Tuesday night, and I tried ringing the house but there was no answer last night or the night before or the night before that."

Buffy looked decidedly shifty. "It’s none of your business."

"Okay, pet. It’s none of my business, but you’re going to tell me anyway. You can either tell me now. Or I can give you a lift home and you can tell me there. Or I’ll wait there until someone else will."

"Riley’s—."

"At practice. D’you think I’m stupid, pet? Now, d’you want a lift or not?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I need to get some stuff from my locker."

"Fine, but when we get back to your place we talk."

Buffy tried to spend long enough at her locker to ensure that no-one would see her getting in a car with Spike. That was the last thing she wanted to have to explain to anyone. Okay, second to last.

Spike waited patiently while Buffy transferred books from her locker to her bag and vice versa, and then the pair walked to his car, the last remaining one in the lot apart from those belonging to the various sports teams, in a tense silence. Spike lit up a cigarette as soon as he got in the car and Buffy immediately started to cough in a pointed manner.

"Oh, for Christ’s sake, pet. If it upsets you that much then wind down your bloody window, or is it beyond your capabilities to even work out that this model predates electric windows?"

"I knew that. This model predates the wheel." Buffy was so quick to protest that Spike smirked at her obvious oversight.

"Right, love."

Spike gunned the engine and the car’s tape deck started up playing the Clash at full volume until he turned it down low enough to allow for conversation. "So, what’s the deal with the disappearing sister and the empty house?"

"Can we just wait until we get back home to do this?"

"As long as you promise not to waltz through the front door and then slam it in my face?"

"Would I do that?" Buffy asked with a sarcastic lilt to her voice.

Spike merely treated her to a pointed glance and Buffy noticed for the first time just how blue his eyes were.

"Okay, I would do that, but you would just be waiting for me when I left the house, so I might as well get it over with." Buffy stumbled over the words and then finished by giving Spike a shy half smile.

"Right then," Spike pronounced, satisfied.

"How come you never bring the car when you come over to see Dawn?"

"‘Cause I only live two blocks over, pet." Spike’s voice showed his amusement.

"But…" Buffy’s mouth opened and closed in a goldfish-like manner.

"But what?" Spike chuckled. "But that would mean I live in a nice neighbourhood instead of down by the docks or something."

Buffy’s mouth stopped moving and she had the good grace to blush. "I guess so. You don’t…"

"Act like some upper-class snob with a stick up my arse?" Spike supplied for her. "Not everyone whose parents have money is a poster child for the Young Republicans. Dad earned his money fair and square. He didn’t inherit it. He was brought up to believe that if something’s worth having it’s worth working for and he brought me up the same way."

"I guess I kind of jumped to conclusions," Buffy admitted.

"Yeah, pet, and you still are. Living in a nice house doesn’t make me any more or less of a delinquent than if we did stay in some pokey flat down by the docks."

"Aren’t we Mr Proletariat?" she asked her voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Five syllables? Someone buy you one of those word a day calendars last Christmas or something?"

"Very funny. Maybe I’m just not as stupid as you think?"

Spike gave her another flash of his ultramarine gaze as he pulled the DeSoto up in front of Buffy’s house. "I’ve never thought you were stupid. Just that your focus has always been on other things."

Buffy found herself flushing underneath his gaze and the unexpected almost-compliment. She scrambled to get out of the car before Spike could notice her disconcertment, but she was already too late.

Spike followed her as she made her way into the house, dropped her bag, grabbed a couple of tumblers of juice passing one to him and made her way out onto the back porch. Buffy sat herself down on the porch steps, ignoring the patio furniture that sat around. Spike positioned himself at the opposite side of the steps, leaving a healthy gap between them. "So, pet?" he asked.

"It’s mom… She’s in hospital," Buffy responded.

"Bad?"

"We don’t know. They’re doing tests."

Spike didn’t probe any further, just gave her a sympathetic look and waited for her to elucidate in her own time, if at all.

Seconds stretched toward a minute and Spike placed his glass on the deck and shuffled toward Buffy, his hand brushing against her back, the touch so tentative at first she wondered if it was him or a random breeze. When she didn’t shy away, he began to rub comforting circles on her back until she let herself relax against him.

December 1988

Buffy looked seasonal and seductive in her red, satin, full-length dress, or so Riley thought as he fingered the hotel room key in his tux pocket. Seduction however was the last thing on Buffy’s mind, the promise she’d made back in May forgotten totally under the weight of a multitude of problems.

"Buffy?"

"Mm-hmm," the blonde responded in the most non-committal manner possible, realising she was totally unaware of whatever the question was.

Smiling, Riley led her toward the cloakroom. When she realised where she was she looked at her watch. It was only ten o’clock. The dance didn’t finish for another two hours. Giles wasn’t expecting her home until half past twelve. She tugged on Riley’s hand to attract his attention as they stood in the queue, most of whom were putting items in, not taking them back out. "Riley? You got some plan you want to let me in on?"

"Well, I thought you wouldn’t want to rush things. If we leave now, it means we’ve got two hours before you have to be home." Riley whispered under his breath.

"Got two hours where? What are you talking about?" Buffy asked exasperated.

"You know. You said Christmas, and now it is." Riley continued to hiss his words under his breath.

"You wouldn’t want to rush things! You really thought that with everything that’s going on with mom… You’re kidding, right? When I said give me till Christmas, I meant give me till Christmas and we’ll talk about it again, not give me till Christmas then climb on. You’re acting like you’ve been granted droit de senior or whatever. Get over yourself." Buffy’s voice in contrast to Riley’s was getting louder.

"Buffy, we already had this discussion. If you don’t want to stand by what you said before, then maybe it is time we called it quits."

"Fine by me." Buffy pulled the class ring from her left hand and stuffed it into Riley’s palm. Deciding that even in December she didn’t really need a wrap in California Buffy stalked off into the night.

"Pet? Are you alright?"

Buffy turned at the familiar voice. "Spike? I didn’t know you were there." She looked askance at his black jeans and T-shirt, wondering how he hadn’t been obvious amongst all the tuxedos.

"Tha’s ‘cause I haven’t been there. I’ve been there." He gestured toward a smaller door that was just far enough ajar for her to tell that it led to the kitchens, his cigarette end glowing brightly in the dark of the alley.

She didn’t realise he’d moved closer, until he wiped the tears from her cheek with the ball of his thumb.

"You got a coat, pet?"

"Yes …no, a shawl but Riley’s got the cloakroom ticket."

"Don’t worry about that. Tell me what it looks like and I’ll get it for you,"

"It’s dark green, with a red pattern and there’s a silver brooch like a star, but they never let you have anything without a ticket unless you wait to the very end and no-one claims it."

Spike just winked and headed past the bouncers like he owned the place. A couple of minutes later he emerged carrying both the shawl and his leather duster. On top of his T-shirt he wore a red button-down shirt.

He slipped the shawl round her shoulders and then held out the duster. "You should put this on as well or you’ll catch pneumonia. I tried ringing for a taxi, but they’re all booked up and I had a couple of glasses of wine while I was helping out in the kitchen so I can’t drive." Normally Buffy would have protested, but it was cold and she didn’t exactly feel like starting another fight tonight, especially over something so petty.

Just as Spike was helping her into the coat Riley appeared in the club doorway.

"Well, well, well. It didn’t take you long to find yourself a replacement, did it?" he drawled. "Might have known you’d be hanging around."

"It’s not like that, but even if it was it wouldn’t be any of your business any more," Buffy snapped, her mouth falling open at the end of the sentence as she became aware of Spike’s simultaneous argument.

"Coming from someone who was screwin’ around behind her back I think you’ve got a bloody cheek."

Buffy stared at Spike. "He wha'? Who?"

"Yeah, I’d really like to know, too. What exactly are you trying to say …Spike?" The taller teen twisted his mouth in distaste as he spat out the blonde’s name and glowered at him.

Spike in turn took a step closer and jutted his chin out in defiance. "I’m saying that if you’re going to screw around on your girlfriend, you should make sure you take those nice white cotton Y fronts that your mommy sewed your nametag into when you go. And it wouldn’t be a bad idea to know whose house you’re in either."

Riley’s face finally flushed bright red. "You don’t have any proof."

"He doesn’t need any proof. The look on your face said it all, Riley. Come on, Spike." Buffy grabbed Spike’s arm using him as a support to let her stride off despite her three-and-a-half inch stilettos.

As soon as the pair rounded the corner out of sight of anyone in the alley Buffy sagged against a nearby wall.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" she asked.

"Reckoned the girl in question didn’t want anyone to know, not to mention the fact that I didn’t think you’d believe me," Spike shrugged.

"I…I… might have done. I don’t know…lately, maybe."

"Come on, pet. Best get you home… assuming that’s what you want? You could always go back in?" Spike held out his arm so that she could hold onto his elbow for support as they resumed walking.

"And have to look at him all night… no, thank you. I only came in the first place because he laid on the guilt trip about me spending all my time at the hospital and never making any time for him. Then we were barely there an hour and…" Buffy broke off with a blush. She watched the pavement as she walked for half a block and then darted a sideways glance, toward Spike.

"You were joking about him having his name sewn into his underwear, right?"

"An’ how would I have known they were his if he hadn’t?" Spike treated her to an infectious grin.

He glanced across, as she smiled back at him and he couldn’t help thinking she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. When she smiled her whole face lit up, though it seemed that the look of happiness was quick to fade away.

They were back on the porch steps. A radio played in the background playing a chart run down.

"So last Christmas in the old homestead, then?" Spike asked softly.

"Yeah, they’re waiting till after the holidays to put up the "For Sale" signs, but… it’s pretty much gone."

"I bet Giles has been complaining about the lack of a National Health Service…"

"How did you know?" Buffy asked wryly.

"’Cause round about now I’ve got an urge to do the same... So how long before they decide that an experimental treatment isn’t experimental any more?"

"Longer than mom can afford to wait…"

"And in the meantime the insurance company just washes their hands of the whole thing?" Spike shook his head softly.

"That’s right."

"But it gives your mum a better chance, right? And that’ s what’s really important…"

"Yep."

"So, Riley knew all the stuff you had goin’ on and he still…"

"Sort of. He knew mom was in the hospital. I never actually told him the rest."

Spike’s head swivelled to look enquiringly at Buffy and she shrugged in response. "You’re sort of easier to talk to…"

Silence settled around the pair apart from the quiet music from the radio. "This isn’t quite what I had in mind for my one night off hospital duty," Buffy mentioned.

"Yeah, well, maybe I should leave you to it," Spike offered, fidgeting as he rose to his feet.

Buffy quickly rose as well. "I wasn’t complaining. In fact, I think things probably turned out for the better." She grasped the elbow of his shirt. "Stay. I was just wishing I’d at least got a dance before I made my exit."

Spike looked down at his feet. ‘It’s just a dance. Friends dance. You dance with Faith. It doesn’t mean anything.’ Glancing up, he stumbled through the words. "Well, pet. You’ve got the music. The deck’s pretty flat and I might not have the tux but I’ve got the requisite arms and legs and I’m here." He held out a hand and as he did the radio beeped out a jingle for "Number one."

Instead of taking the offered hand, Buffy slipped underneath it her arms wrapping around his waist so that she was held closer against his body than he had ever intended. A melancholy rock ballad provided the backdrop as the pair shuffled in each other’s arms. For the first time since she had realised the severity of her mother’s illness Buffy felt at peace. As Poison played the final bars she glanced up to see those blue eyes watching her and she was unable to resist covering those soft lips with her own.

At the feel of her lips on his, Spike’s heart started beating double time. He had wanted this for so long. His feet froze in place and then he forced himself to pull away.

"Buffy, luv, I can’t. Look, it’s time I headed home. Say hi to Bit and your mum and Giles for me." Before Buffy could work out what was going on he was gone.

Buffy pushed coins into the vending machine and pressed the buttons to make it dispense a stale tuna sandwich. Moving back to make room for her sister, she tried her best to sound casual.

"Dawn. You know Spike pretty well, right?"

"So-so, I suppose," Dawn admitted. "Why the sudden interest?"

"No reason. I’m not interested. Why would I be interested in Spike?"

Dawn gave her a look that said as eloquently as words, 'do you think I’m a total moron?’ "How about the fact you just split up with the guy you’ve been going out with for more than two years and I haven’t seen you crying. And Janice’s sister heard Riley telling Harmony and Anya that he caught the two of you necking in the alley. I told her that was rubbish, ‘cause like Spike’s been seeing some girl up in LA for months now but maybe I’m the one that was talking rubbish."

"Spike has a girlfriend?" Suddenly his abrupt departure after the Christmas party made far too much sense. He’d just been being friendly and she’d… "Wait. Riley told Ahn and Harm that he caught me and Spike? He’s the one that…"

Dawn counted off the questions on her fingers. "Well, duh. He’s been going out with some Goth chick he met in LA since about June. Darla, I think. Definitely begins with D anyway. He only sees her at weekends. I think Xander said she’s a couple of years older than him.

And like I said Janice’s sister said she overheard him, and he’s the one that what?"

"It doesn’t matter any more. I’d already given him his ring back when I found out anyway." Buffy was reluctant to admit that Riley had slept with someone else, behind her back. Part of her felt guilty that she hadn’t been enough for him. Maybe if she’d… he wouldn’t have… Even though on a conscious level she knew she was in the right and nothing excused what he’d done, she couldn’t silence that little nagging voice.

Buffy only went in the end because Giles would have wondered what was wrong otherwise. Even now, she was wondering how soon after midnight she could go home. Harmony had cut her dead when she came in. Anya had sort of smiled at her, but then the other blonde had dragged her off. Percy hadn’t left Riley’s side all night, so it was a fair bet he’d swallowed Riley’s explanation of events too, or it was all boys together and he just didn’t care. So, instead of being at the centre of events Buffy found herself up on the balcony, looking down as everybody else had fun. Including Spike.

Buffy had watched him as he arrived with his girl. She reckoned Xander must have been feeling pretty generous when he called that age difference a couple of years. She would have put it at at least five and maybe as much as ten. Not that you could fault his taste, if you went for that type. Sort of a moonlight and shadow effect. Pale, pale skin and eyes and waves of dark hair reaching almost to her waist. They went straight to a table that was marked as reserved. The man who was already seated there merely gave a brief nod to the pair, though the woman he was with rose to hug the new arrivals, placing a kiss on each of their cheeks.

Buffy recognised the man as Oz, the club’s owner and apparently, according to Dawn, Spike’s uncle. The woman he was with looked so much like Spike she had to be some sort of blood relation, probably his aunt. Then again, it could be that she and Oz were brother and sister, rather than husband and wife and this was Spike’s mom. There were still five empty seats at the table. Maybe she could figure out better who was who after the remaining guests arrived.

The dark-haired woman (Buffy refused to call her a girl) reached over to straighten Spike’s shirt collar and though Spike waved her hands away it was in a good-humoured way, not as if he was really irritated by the possessive gesture. She watched as Spike picked up both his and the woman’s coat, draping them over one arm, while the woman fumbled in her purse before passing him some money and nodding in the direction of the bar. Spike shook his head, laughing as if she’d suggested something outrageous, but took the money anyway.

Buffy lost sight of him for some time and assumed he’d headed for the cloakroom. When next she saw him he was at the bar and he’d been joined by Xander and Faith. Spike bought a round of drinks and Buffy could tell by the colour-coded cups that three of them were alcoholic. Yeah, she’d been so right. A couple of years, her butt. When Spike returned to the table Xander and Faith went with him. That left three empty seats.

A soft male voice spoke right by her ear. "Penny for them?"

Faith and Xander greeted the others around the table as they sat down. "Hi, Oz. Mrs Osbourne, Mrs Blank. What’s happened to your normal escort this evening?"

Spike smirked as he sorted out the drinks order and pulled his mum’s change from his back pocket. "Dad drew the short straw. He gets to make the two-hour round trip to pick up gran and grampa, but he shouldn’t be too much longer."

"In that case, I shall take full advantage and gain some cool points by dancing with the prettiest woman in the room," Xander held out his hand to Dru.

"Crawler," accused Faith.

"C’mon, pet." Spike caught Faith by the waist before she could sit down. "If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em."

Xander bellowed directly into Spike’s ear as they danced, trying to make himself heard. "So, no sign of your Miss Midwich then? Told you it was premature you breaking things off with Darla."

Spike shrugged. "Harmony and Anya are over in the far corner with their latest conquests and Finn and Percy are holding court at the bar. No sign of Buffy though. I know she had a ticket but maybe after last week she decided just to go see her mum with Giles and Bitty… And all you said about me chuckin’ Darla was could I chuck her in your direction."

This time it was Xander who shrugged.

"Besides," added Spike. "If she doesn’t come tonight, it doesn’t stop me asking her out next time I see her, now I can do it with a clean conscience."

At the end of the song Dru looped an arm round Spike’s waist as they walked back. "She’ll come, pet. Who could resist a handsome devil like you?"

Spike pressed a kiss onto her forehead. "Thanks, mum, but I think you’re biased."

Buffy jumped, startled by the voice in her ear. Turning her head slightly, she was pleasantly surprised to recognise Scott Hope. Just for a second she’d feared that Riley had found her hiding place, so perhaps her smile of welcome was just a bit brighter than it might otherwise have been and maybe in the warmth of that smile Scott read a message that wasn’t really there.

"I don’t think they’re even worth that much, just watchin’ everybody."

"Rumour has it that you and Riley broke up," Scott kept his tone noncommittal.

"That would explain why he’s sitting at the bar amidst his adoring female fans and I’m up here."

"Rumour also had it that there was another guy involved," the brunette continued even more cautiously.

"Rumour was mistaken. The only reason I dumped Riley was Riley."

Buffy could almost see the relief flood across his face. "So I wouldn’t be treading on anybody’s toes if I asked you to dance?"

Buffy cast another glance down to where the foursome was dancing. "Nope, I guess you wouldn’t, but I’m kind of enjoying the peace and quiet for just now. Maybe we could sit this one out."

It was Xander who noticed her first. "Looks like you’ve got competition, Spike, me boy."

Spike just smirked. "Well, they say all’s fair in love and war." After a quick word to the DJ, Spike began to work his way through the crowd on the dance-floor. He was almost level with her, about to cut in, when her lips met those of the boy she was dancing with in a soft caress.

Buffy couldn’t believe the look of rage on his face when she looked over. ‘What right had he to look angry? He’d been flaunting his girlfriend in her face all night. He’d only been coming to explain why he’d run off the other night. She’d just saved them both the embarrassment. That was all. Wasn’t it?’ She followed his path from the room by the stream of irritated people who were shoved from his way and couldn’t help thinking that just possibly she’d read something very, very wrongly.

"Somehow," came the DJ’s voice over the PA system. "I’ve managed to lose the peroxide pest that made this request, but I’m sure he’ll come crawling out of the woodwork soon, ‘cause he said it was for a very special young lady."

Confused, Buffy looked over at the reserved table in search of Spike’s girlfriend. To her surprise the woman was not only sitting on some other guy’s lap, but practically giving him mouth to mouth. It was only when the pair pulled apart that Buffy realised her mistake. There was no way that man could be anyone other than Spike’s father. The strains of "Every rose has its thorn" mocked her as she tried to fight her way to the door to see if she could rectify her mistake.

"Buffy?" Scott called out as she pushed her way through the crowd but she didn’t even notice.

It was the orange glow of his cigarette that gave him away, and she rushed the half-block toward it.

"Spike?"

"Piss off, princess. I’m not in the mood for any more of your little games." Spike’s voice sounded from the darkness, roughened from the harsh smoke he inhaled more deeply than usual.

"My little games? I’m not the one who did the four-minute mile the other night. You can’t blame me if I thought you weren’t interested."

"So you moved right on to the next bloke who was. Allow me to be the first to offer my congratulations. Now bugger off back inside like a good little girl or he might find somebody else and you’d have to go looking for number four."

"Dawn told me you were going out with some Goth chick as she put it," Buffy changed to a softer tone of voice, trying not to fuel the fires further.

"Was. Past tense. No longer. Now hilarious as I’m sure you find that, you must have other men to do."

Suddenly Spike found himself pinned against the wall he’d been leaning on, one of Buffy’s hands on each shoulder.

"I’m trying to explain. If you can just shut your arrogant mouth for five minutes and listen." Buffy glared up at him to see if he would interrupt. "I was up on the balcony most of the night and I saw you with this woman and you were all arms round her waist and carrying her coat and she was straightening your collar and everything… and I thought."

"You dozy bint! That was me mum."

"Well I realised that! Only not till I saw her with your dad and that wasn’t till after you stomped off again."

"So are you trying to say that you were only snoggin’ droopy boy in there to make me jealous?"

"That and so I wouldn’t have to listen to you explaining that you were already taken," she admitted.

Spike tossed away his half-finished cigarette. "I was seeing someone. I broke it off when I saw her this weekend because after the other night I realised the only person I wanted to be with was you. Now, tell me I’m not as much of a wanker as Harris thinks I am."

Instead of telling him, Buffy let her lips do some silent persuading. It was hours later when the church bells began to ring in the New Year that they decided they should return to the crowded club (after one last New Year kiss, of course).

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